


Coronation

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: Strange Hearts & Wild Things [13]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Amazing Queens, Awesome Moment of Crowning, Coronations, Crowning Ceremony, Dance of Romance, Fairy Royal Ceremonies, Family Feels, Feels, Fluff, Life Changing Events, One teeny tiny scene of turmoil and angst but it's short I promise!, Proud Family Feels, Romance, Royal Ceremonies, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6550054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can’t stop the moon from falling, can’t stop the sun from rising…can’t stop a Princess from being crowned Queen. </p><p>A new day dawns, and a new reign begins for the Fairy Kingdom.</p><p>Part 13 of my "Strange Hearts & Wild Things" series!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coronation

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOODNESS, GUYS, WE’RE FINALLY HERE! 
> 
> I can’t lie, guys, I’m *so* happy to share this with you. I got pretty emotional over writing certain scenes here – lots of Proud Mama Feels – and I’m so damn pleased that now you get to experience it too. I’m just so incredibly proud of my Fierce Beautiful Butterfly Girl... 
> 
> There are two songs that both feature in this story and have continually inspired me while writing this fanfic. The first one is "The Princess Diaries Waltz" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxcXCwPeaOs), and the next one is "Mad Sounds" by Arctic Monkeys (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uimWYQcxjhk), which never fails to show up on a Butterfly Bog playlist. I mention them now for reasons that will become clear as you read on...
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with this timeline despite the long wait, my dears. Your support and love mean *so* much more than words could ever hope to convey, and I am so incredibly happy to finally share this fanfic with you. As always, I hope you enjoy!

The sky over the Light Fields was the soft pink of primroses, pale with the promise of a new day for the Fairy Kingdom, a new dawn.

_A new reign…_

Marianne watched from her windows, her expression calm but her eyes wide and wary, the amber of them catching the dawn’s glow. She  _knew_  what this day would bring. Hell, she had prepared for it all her life, especially in the last few weeks. But knowing what would come after today…

That was something else entirely. 

_Oh god, am I ready?_

Marianne sighed, the sound as soft as the clouds misting over the skies, lavender and gold framed against the wash of primrose pink and cornflower blue. It was useless to dwell on such questions. She would  _never_  feel ready, not really. And either way, how she felt wouldn’t stop today from happening.  _Can’t stop the moon from falling, can’t stop the sun from rising…_

_Can’t stop a Princess from being crowned Queen._

Marianne sighed once more, this one close to a shiver. She wished she could blame it on the coolness of the dawn washing her Fields and how she was clad only in her nightgown, but she knew the way her heart was beginning to thud in her breast had nothing to do with that. Nevertheless, she wrapped her arms around herself, hugging away chill and trying to restore some sort of calm.  _Stop stressing out, just relax, there’s no need to get in a panic now, the day hasn’t even started –_

But it would, and soon.  With each inch the sun climbed, the sooner the whole Kingdom would wake and look to the Palace, wonder and wait and speculate on what  _she_  was doing, how  _she_  was feeling, what this new age in the Fairy Kingdom would mean for all of them–

Marianne snorted softly, her gut clenching.  _Attempting to stare down the sunrise, nauseous, and I hope to the skies not complete and utter ruin._

She closed her eyes, drawing in a breath and frowning when her heart didn’t stop racing. Right, this was ridiculous. She didn’t need to start today of all days with her nerves frayed. She needed to calm down, to soothe and center herself. Normally if she was feeling on edge and full of nervous energy, Marianne would do some sparring exercises, but…a bath might be better? Dawn would probably appreciate it more, having her fresh and fragrant as she worked her magic. Besides, who ever heard of training in your nightgown? 

Thus decided, Marianne determinedly turned away from her window and made her way to the door of her chamber. Opening it as softly as she could, she cleared her throat and quietly called down the hall. “Girls…?” 

Almost immediately Bluebell, Clover, and Thistle were in front of her, greeting her with loud and happy chirps, and Marianne tried not to yelp in surprise. They twittered and twirled around her, excitedly trilling and shrilling their joy.  _Today, today, today is the big day —!_

Quickly recovering, Marianne hastily ushered them in. “Girls,  _shhhhh,_  please, I don’t wanna wake the whole Palace—!” 

With visible effort, her pixies managed to collect themselves, blinking at her with expectant back eyes, their little faces aglow. Marianne couldn’t keep back a fond smile. “Glad to see someone’s excited for this day to begin.” 

Clover cocked her head, a furrow creeping along her tiny brow as she chirped enquiringly. 

“Nah, I’m…I’m excited too, just…” Marianne rubbed her shoulders, feeling her skin prickle with both cold and apprehension. She sighed, not sure if she could explain. “There’s excitement, but…there’s other stuff.” 

All three of them gave little trills of understanding, and Bluebell drifted closer to tap her nose with a tender hand, squeaking softly. 

Marianne blushed and smiled, touched. “Thanks, guys. I know you would. Actually, that’s why I called you in. I’m feeling a bit of edge, and I figured maybe you could help—”

All three of them gave shrill cries of excitement before flying quick as a flash to Marianne’s sword, placed beside her bed after she had polished it last night, the routine soothing her to sleep. Her handmaidens hovered over the blade, looking at their Lady expectantly.  

Marianne blinked. “You…you  _want_ to spar with me?” 

They all nodded eagerly, practically quivering. 

Marianne shook her head a touch dazedly, slightly stunned. She never thought her pixies had actually  _enjoyed_  helping her train…

Thistle, the youngest, placed a tiny hand upon the hilt and gave a rather pleading trill that Bluebell and Clover quickly echoed. 

Though still rather shocked, Marianne couldn’t stop a smile from curling across her lips. “… _Right._  One more spar with your Princess before she gets crowned. Loser has to help me untangle my hair after my bath.” 

Her handmaidens cheered, high and bright, and zipped off to find the fencing staff they usually used, leaving Marianne to laugh. She shook her head bemusedly, pushing a hand through her sleep tousled hair. Guess she rubbed off on them after all. What the hell, she had always enjoyed her baths more when she had earned them. Anyway…today she could do what she damn well wanted. 

After all…she was going to be Queen. 

* * *

There was a humming from the hall, and then a cheerful rap at the door, followed by an equally bright voice. “Rise and shine, Miss Queen To Be! It’s your beloved sister, soon to be the only Princess of the Fairy Kingdom!” 

The door swung open, and Dawn gaily fluttered into the room, her smile bright as her namesake and effortlessly managing several packages and a breakfast tray filled with all sorts of delicacies. “Now,” she sang, “let’s start getting royally gorgeous—”

She stopped, blinking at the scene before her, blue eyes wide. 

Several streamers of Marianne’s bed were loose, fluttering across the floor like someone had hacked them free, and some furniture was overturned as well. Bluebell, Thistle, and Clover were all sprawled upon Marianne’s bed, their little chests rising and falling with their pants.

Meanwhile, Marianne had just stepped out of her bathroom, casually toweling her damp hair, her skin pink and fragrant. Her nightgown was missing a strap, her body loose and relaxed in a way that only a spar and a hot bath could manage. 

“Hey Dawn,” Marianne greeted casually, giving her baby sister a warm smile, almost languid. “Thought I heard you at the door. Perfect timing, I just got done washing up —”

“—After a spar.” Dawn sighed and placed her things upon Marianne’s vanity, thankfully one of the few things in the room that was still standing, making a studied effort not to her roll eyes at the sight of a dagger embedded in a nearby chair. Skies forbid that Marianne rest up on her coronation day. “Well, you’re definitely starting this day off on a  _you_ note.” 

Marianne smiled, eyes sparkling with shameless enjoyment. “You know me when I get antsy.”

“I sure do.” Dawn shook her head but couldn’t keep a smile of her own off her face. Be she a Princess or Queen, Marianne would always be  _Marianne_. Once a cause of exasperation, today the thought was a comfort, and it was with a happy heart that Dawn flexed her fingers, big blue eyes eager. “Whereas I turn to fashion. Speaking of which, give me that towel and hand me a brush. We need to start on your hair  _now.”_   

Marianne sat on her vanity stool with a soft groan, and Dawn’s grin became a joyous little squeal as she wrapped her arms around her sister’s shoulders, her wings fluttering. “ _Oooooh_ …today is going to be  _so_  exciting!” 

* * *

A few fashion filled hours later, Marianne was standing by her window, dressed head to toe in her coronation regalia and as polished and glowing as Dawn’s heart could desire and her hands could manage, once again watching the sun. It was now considerably higher, a fact that had Marianne fighting the urge to wring her skirts. The impulse was not helped at all by how the silence of her bedroom seemed to echo, pressing down upon her all the more now that Dawn had left.  _Closer, it’s getting closer…_

Marianne had been worried that her usual impatience with fashion and frippery would make her already tenuous mood take a sharp and sour turn. But to her pleasant surprise, getting all glamoured up for the ceremony had been relatively painless, even fun. She could thank Dawn for that. Knowing her older sister all too well, her baby sister had obviously been determined to keep Marianne’s spirits up and keep her mind at ease, readily agreeing to Marianne’s demand to do her own makeup and gently dismissing the pixies when they had started to edge into another tizzy of excitement. Soon Marianne had been able to forget how her heart was climbing up her throat in favor of simply enjoying this time with her sister, trying to choke down what she could from the breakfast tray. 

Then Dawn had taken her gown out of its rose petal wrappings, and Marianne hadn’t known if her heart had stopped out of awe at its beauty or in terror at what it meant.  

It was absolutely  _gorgeous_ , a stunning subtle silver dream of shimmering spider silk over soft white rose petals, the gossamer glimmer helped by countless tiny dewdrop diamonds and glistening seed beads. Dawn had undoubtedly worked her delicate fingers to the bone, and the result made Marianne’s breath catch.

“Cobweb lace and gossamer gauze with a filigree of silvermist thread,” Dawn said briskly, lacing up the bodice and smoothing the fabric so it clung close to Marianne curves like a second skin, all those endless hours of measuring paying off. “And if it gets torn at all, I will kill you.”  

The sweet cheerfulness of her sister’s voice didn’t make Marianne doubt her seriousness for a single second. Fashion was Dawn’s forte, and today was  _not_ the day to rebel against her authority. Thankfully Marianne had felt no inclination to do so, watching with rapt eyes as Dawn wove her magic and keeping her mouth shut lest any of the breakfast she had managed to get down came back up. 

Dawn had always taken greater pains in Marianne’s appearance than she ever had, but that had been positively blasé compared to her care today. Her fingers were fastidious and fussing, even insisting on arranging her hair, despite Marianne’s protests that she had brushed it after her bath. Dawn had merely rolled her eyes and continued to fluff and smooth the dark locks till they gleamed like polished redwood. Her attention to the dress was even greater, tucking it just so and artfully arranging the train so that the scalloped hem trailed after Marianne in a graceful glittering wake, draping itself becomingly when she stood still.  

Gown taken care of and Marianne remaining unyielding in her desire to do her own makeup, Dawn had moved onto jewelry, clasping bracelets of delicate, slender vines to her wrists, crafted from a gold so pale it almost looked silver, and Marianne couldn’t stop herself from moving her hand this way and that, admiring how the light played off of them as they climbed and twined up her wrists. 

But that hadn’t been all. 

After giving them one last careful polish, Dawn had taken a deep breath before turning to Marianne’s vanity, picking up a slender box she had placed there. 

“I asked Dad if it was okay for you to wear this,” she said softly, opening the lid, and Marianne heart gave a hard lurch as saw what was inside. “I think…I think she would have wanted you to.”  

Marianne slowly reached out a hand, her slightly trembling fingertips just barely brushing over the pale silver and gold necklace nestled against the dark green velvet. Intricate vines bearing the most exquisitely detailed roses and thorns wove delicately around a fine chain to frame a small, glittering amethyst, the same jewel inlaid in all the crowns of the Fairy Kingdom. 

Marianne’s voice was soft and thick. “Last time I remember seeing this…she was wearing it when she gave us our hugs goodnight…” 

“It looked like it belonged on her,” Dawn agreed, her voice just as soft. “And it did. Dad…he told me that she wore it the day they were crowned.” Her inhale was almost a sniffle. “He… _we_  think that it’d be nice, you know? A way to have her with you.” 

Damp golden brown eyes looked up into pale blue, and Marianne’s smile was as joyful as it was watery.  _“Dawn…”_

“Don’t cry!” Dawn laughed, her own eyes misty. She quickly and carefully picked up the necklace, the slender beauty of it hanging gracefully from her fingers before she draped it around Marianne neck. After a few touches, the pendent was nestled in the hollow of her throat, amethyst glittering and the gold glowing against creamy skin. Dawn sighed happily, her voice warm, full of pride and love. “There… _perfect.”_

Marianne had touched it with trembling fingertips, her heart full and thudding.  _Mom’s necklace, I’m actually wearing Mom’s necklace…_

_This isn’t going to be the only thing of hers you’ll wear today._

Marianne’s heart stopped its rabbit-racing beat to still like a hare sighting a hawk, realization a stone dropping through the pond of whatever calm she had managed to gather.  _The crown for the Queen of the Fairy Kingdom, the crown they must wear until the end their reign, the end of their days –_

_Mom’s crown._

_Now my crown._

_I’m going to be Queen._

Dawn had taken one look at Marianne’s face and promptly stepped forward to brush a tender kiss on her cheek. “You can do this,” she said with a gentle conviction, blue eyes bright with certainty. “You’re the strongest person I know. You can take care of yourself, and…you can take care of this Kingdom.” 

Marianne, unable to speak, could only nod before enveloping her sister in a tight hug, hoping it conveyed all the words she couldn’t say. She figured she had been somewhat successful when Dawn began to sniffle, snuggling her big sister close. Then she had given some teary giggles, pulling back to half-heartedly complain that Marianne would rumple her dress and ruin all of her hard work and  _then_  where would they be? 

Giving a slightly thick chuckle and one last fierce squeeze, Marianne had relinquished her, knowing she had her own preparations to see to. With a teary smile and kiss blown her way, Dawn had departed, leaving Marianne to pace the floor of her bedroom, too wary of wrinkling her dress to sit down, her sister’s words running through her head.  _You can take care of this Kingdom…_

Marianne now sighed, her fingers toying at her necklace. Oh god,  _could_ she?

Biting her lip, Marianne looked down at the reminder of her mother and smiled softly.  _If I can be half the Queen that you were…_

Her heart gave an ache of love and wistfulness, and Marianne quickly blinked her eyes and straightened her shoulders, taking a steadying breath. No matter what, Mom would be with her today, in a way.  _Dad will be there, Dawn will be there, Sunny will be there…heck, the whole freaking court is going to be there. Everyone will be there._

_Except the one who mattered the most._

Marianne sighed, slow and sad, weary with resignation. The Goblin whose presence she had been counting on to calm her down, the imagined sight of him standing out amongst the crowd soothing her—

And he couldn’t come because of some achingly stupid archaic rules and an achingly stupid archaic Council who had  _refused_  to listen to her. 

She had just returned from the Dark Forest – and a much needed bit of loving courtesy of Bog – and had settled into her seat for the next Council meeting before blithely asking her father when Bog should arrive for her coronation. If he came early, he could keep Dawn company while they waited for the ceremony to begin, right? 

The murmurs that had broken out at that had immediately put Marianne on edge. Then a particularly gray and grim Fairy had leaned forward, his expression an infuriating mix of paternal and patronizing. Surely their Queen To Be  _knew_  that the Bog King, nor any denizens of the Dark Forest, could not attend her coronation? Why, the Fairy Kingdom’s laws forbade it. 

 _No,_  she had damn well  _not_  known.     

Marianne’s rage had been as all consuming as a forest fire, and the Council’s smugness had melted under the ferocity of it, some members even blatantly cowering. But no matter how they cringed, they stayed firm as gnarled roots, presenting her with one of their treasured texts. 

Marianne’s furious eyes had almost scorched the scroll upon which the wretched laws had been written.  _“On days of C’ronation, all of the Faerie Kingdom shall celebrate and feast and maketh m’rry. Yet only those of the Faerie Court shall be present in the Throne Room to bear witness to the C’remony, for sake of Sacredness and Safety.”_

In other words, no commoners from the Fields and no visiting dignitaries.  _Especially not Goblin ones._

God, but she had been  _so_  naïve to think that there wouldn’t be some archaic set of rules the Council would dredge up to prevent Bog from being present at only one of the biggest days of her life. No matter how much they had stated that their  _dear_  Crown Princess had never  _asked_  to make it so the Bog King could be at her coronation, it was only too obvious they had planned for this. Marianne had been played, and horribly well. 

Unfortunately, outright accusing them of being under-handed, prejudiced old snakes was not an option. They hadn’t  _technically_  betrayed her, after all, merely keeping to a law of the Fairy Kingdom. A supremely stupid, heavily biased born from ignorance and prejudice law, but a law all the same.  _Clever, conniving bastards._

Unable to give them the full force of her justified fury, Marianne had whirled upon her father, amber eyes slitted and spitting with rage.  _“Did you know about this?”_

Some of the councilors jumped at her snarl, eyes wide at such  _Goblin-like_ behavior from their Queen To Be. Hell, she ought to be careful, they might ban  _her_  from her own goddamn ceremony –

King Dagda blinked, shocked. “ _Wha-?_  You think I would have let this  _happen?”_

Her wrath had been too great to let logic rule, and in that moment Marianne had only wanted a target to unleash the fire of her rage at, to dull the scorching lividness in her chest. “I don’t know  _what_  the hell to think,  _Dad,”_ she spat, before storming out of the Council Chamber, wings flaring and fists clenched and leaving her father to gape after her. The surprised hurt in his green eyes had only made her steps longer and harder, had only made her set her jaw more fiercely.  _Don’t care won’t care can’t care, it’s not the first time he’s hurt you –_

After the destruction of seven sparring dummies, Marianne had managed to cool down enough to gain some sort of detached calm. Yes, the laws were archaic and stupid. Yes, the Council had been  _extremely_  underhand in springing this up on her two days before the ceremony. But then, she had been incredibly foolish not to check for such rules, and storming out of the Chamber like she had wouldn’t do her any favors in lessening the Council’s belief that she was just a hot-headed, too-rebellious-for-her-own-good female. 

_But to let such laws stand…!_

Even if Dad hadn’t been in on it, even if he  _tried_  to speak sense into them, Marianne knew it was useless. Too many fairies on the Council were prejudiced old windbags, lording their power over younger, meeker members. Even if the King himself made an appeal, there would be no swaying them. 

Even knowing that, even if her anger had been a touch less hot, Marianne might have attempted to plead with them, but she was simply too livid. God, that she would even  _consider_  begging them was the bitterest bile to swallow. That they would do this, act in direct opposition of the diplomacy she had devoted so much time to, all in the name of petty prejudice…!

But changing the laws in two days time simply wasn’t feasible.

It was a horribly unfair situation, but then Marianne was no stranger to those. But like hell she was going to let them have a victory over her they could savor. Besides, what better way to best those bastards than by being a true Queen? 

So she had returned to the Council Chamber, coolly apologizing for her abrupt exit, meeting the eyes of each member and letting her true feelings burn through, even as her smile remained polite as ever. All had paled beneath their gray beards, undoubtedly realizing just what their actions had cost them. As soon as she was crowned, some swift and much-needed dismissals would be happening. 

She hadn’t been able to look at her father, anger and guilt making her avoid his gaze. She desperately wanted to believe that he  _hadn’t_  known, but after everything, how he had acted in the past…she just couldn’t be sure. 

She hadn’t felt any better on her subsequent trip out to the Dark Forest, her whole body burning with guilt as she pictured Bog’s shocked and hurt face when she gave him the news. 

When Bog had merely shrugged and said “Already knew  _that_ , Tough Girl,” Marianne had nearly shattered her toes from kicking a tree root. 

_“You knew?! You knew and you didn’t think to tell me?!”_

“I thought  _you_  already knew!” Bog held up his hands, the gesture almost pleading, the wariness in his eyes bordering on fear. “I thought  _that_  was why you hadn’t said anything to me, that you already  _knew_  I wouldn’t be there -!” 

“I didn’t  _say_  anything because I  _assumed_  that you’d be –!” Marianne clutched her head and grit her teeth, then fell to the floor like a petal from a blossom. Covering her face with her hands, her voice came out muffled. “I didn’t say anything because I was an idiot.  _Am_  an idiot. I should have known better than to assume, and now  _nothing_  can be done in just two days—”

Her eyes had burned and her voice had turned traitorously thick, and Bog immediately dropped his hands in favor of going to her, vast concern in his sharp features as he sat beside her, his lean throat bobbing a bit as he swallowed. “I…I didn’t…in the Dark Forest we don’t  _need_  other royals to witness the scepter being taken by the new King. It’s merely done between the present King and the inheritor, if you’re even lucky enough to have the former  _alive_ —” 

“It’s  _different_  for the Fairy Kingdom,” Marianne muttered, roughly wiping the back of her hand across her eyes. “A whole song and dance that the entire court sees. I guess we don’t  _need_  other royals there, even if it’s in line with my diplomacy work, but…I just…” 

Her voice cracked and she ducked her head down. “I  _wanted_  you there. I thought you  _could_  be there. And the fact that we have laws  _forbidding_  it…”

Her voice trailed off miserably, and Bog edged closer, looking torn between desperately wanting to comfort her and bewilderment. “Ah…Ah just assumed…” 

He dropped his head, his exhale low and rough and pained. “Ah shouldn’t have assumed. Ah…Ah should have checked with ye, asked ye if…” 

The growing self-recrimination in his voice had Marianne lifting her head, and blue eyes looked into hers, bright and distraught.  _“Ah’m sae sorry, Tough Girl.”_

“Bog, no, it’s – it will be okay,” Marianne sighed, getting to her feet, Bog quickly following her. “I mean, yes, it  _sucks_ , and I’m going to be kicking myself over it for ages, but…it is what it is. Those laws can’t be changed in just two days.” She lifted a shoulder warily. “No use crying over spilled Potion.” 

Bog’s expression remained upset, his mouth a tense line. “If the Council brought this upon you—”  

“I brought this upon myself.” It hurt to admit it, but a Queen had to own up to her mistakes. Marianne then scowled, baring her teeth. “But believe me, I’m going to make the Council  _crawl_  for pulling this.” 

“No doubt it will be magnificent,” Bog said, always happier to see her in a state of wrathful action than miserable uncertainty. His mouth twitched, but his eyes were full of loving pride. “You’re going to be an absolutely vicious Queen, love.” 

Marianne had to give a weary and deeply affectionate chuckle, remembering the first time he had said those words. “God, I love you.” 

Such words always had the power to melt Bog out of even his foulest mood. His gaze grew more tender, soft with adoration and worry as he stepped to her, offering his hand hesitantly. “Are you sure it will be alright –?” 

Marianne took his hand and pulled him into a hug, nuzzling her cheek at his scaly chest as Bog readily wrapped his arms around her. “We’ll make it alright,” she murmured against his heartbeat. “I…I did want you there.  _Do_ want you there.” A little flare of pain went through her heart, and she mustered on. “But we’ll make it work, somehow. Dawn can probably come up with something with you.” Especially if Marianne’s happiness depended on it. “At the very least, she can give you all the details of the ceremony.” She smiled wryly. “Heck, you’ll probably get bored.”

She heard Bog’s smile in his voice. “Your sister is many things, but boring is hardly one of them.” 

Marianne hummed in agreement and snuggled closer, closing her eyes. The days of not having faith in Dawn were done - she  _would_  think of something, even if it bordered on needlessly dramatic and extravagant. Heck, she could write and score a musical based on the whole affair if she wanted to. As long as Bog got to experience Marianne’s coronation in some way, Marianne would be content. 

Bog pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, his breath tickling her hairs. His voice was a strange mix of rough and soft as he continued to hold her close, low and full of promise.  _“We’ll think o’ somethin’…”_

Heeding his words, Marianne had left the Forest and returned to the Fields with her heartache somewhat assuaged. She had only just touched down in the main hall of the Palace when Dawn had practically attacked her, obviously up to date on what had happened at the Council meeting and passionately declaring the  _unfairness_ of it all. When Marianne had disentangled herself from her embrace in order to breathe, she suggested that she plan something with Bog. Dawn had agreed with a fervency that had bordered on fanatic and made Marianne endlessly thankful that her little sister was on her side. 

The next day had been a strange one. Marianne had found herself somewhere between stoic acceptance, rushing anxiety, and lingering feelings of resentment over the debacle of yesterday. All of it had compounded into the strangest sense of calm Marianne had ever experienced and one she wasn’t fool enough to question.

 Dawn had insisted that she rest up as much as she can, what with the big day ahead. But Marianne, never one for sitting still in times of stress, had spent the day training. She hadn’t done any activities that would leave her  _too_  sore for the ceremony, but she relished the burn and ache of it nonetheless, her hands happy to have the familiar weight of her sword in them. 

She flexed her hand now, grinning slightly at how her bracelets flashed and how she felt the rub of calluses on her palm. The spar with her pixies might have pushed her luck a bit, but she couldn’t regret it. 

Not like she could regret other things… 

She dropped her hand, her smile fading a bit as she thought back to the rest of last night. Dinner had stirred up her stress once more, what with it being a feast for all the court and Marianne’s stomach not feeling all that there. A majority of the Council had been present, and she had ignored them with regal disdain, head held high. They had known better to engage her, spending their time filling up their cups with as much wine as they could and darkly muttering amongst themselves. 

Dad had been more difficult. She hadn’t sought him out after returning from the Forest, still unsure of how she felt and nursing the childish hope that  _he_ would come to  _her_. But each time he had appeared ready to cross to her, to talk to her, their eyes had met and he had halted, ducking his head down and busying himself with his plate, whiskers drooping and wariness in every line of his body. 

Naturally, none of this had conspired to make Marianne feel any better, and she had damn near torn the violet lisianthus petals of her skirt from twisting it so.  _Was he_   _too nervous to talk to her in front of everyone, or too scared of **her?**_

But it was her conversation with Hadrian, one of the younger Council members and an old crush of her sister’s that had set her stomach to truly twisting.

Hadrian was already known as one of the most competent of their healers, and had eagerly supported Marianne’s diplomatic efforts what with the potential of finding and trading herbs and medicines with the Dark Forest. He was a sensible fellow, with a charm born from his great sincerity and passion for his profession that was vastly different from Roland’s superficial congeniality. Marianne liked and respected him, appreciating his advice enough to fight for him to have a seat on the Council, something that Hadrian had been endlessly grateful for. They had been in the midst of an intense discussion of possible plans of getting a foraging party together to explore the Dark Forest when one of the older Council members had passed by, giving a derisive and ill-concealed snort as he heard the topic of their conversation. 

A narrow glare from the Queen To Be sent him scurrying away in a quick retreat, and Hadrian had rolled his eyes in weary disgust, the light green of them catching the glow of the grand dining room’s chandelier. “You think after the meeting yesterday they’ve have grown bored with sulking.” 

“Two things have an endless capacity for pouting” Marianne countered grimly, snatching up two flutes of thistle wine from a passing tray and offering him one, which he graciously accepted. “Young children, and old men with too much privilege. At least one of them can grow out of it.” 

Hadrian chuckled, clinking his glass to hers. “Cheers to that. But after how you and the King went after them, I would have thought they’d have tried to be a  _bit_  more graceful in—”

“Dad?” Marianne set her glass down on a nearby table with a sharp, crystalline  _plink._   _“Dad_  went after them? When?” 

Hadrian gave her a look of genuine surprise. “He didn’t say anything to you? After you left, he called a cancelation of our usual recess, refused to let us leave until we came up with a way to abolish those laws that those prejudiced relics had dredged up. Or at least  _change_  them enough so that the Bog King could attend. You know they were originally created to stop assassination attempts? No danger of that happening now, of course. Between that logic and how furious the King was, everyone tried their damndest, but any remotely conceivable plan couldn’t happen in just two days.” He gave a sigh. “Honestly, I’m disappointed too. I was looking forward to a chance to meet some of the Bog King’s healers—”

“Dad was  _furious?”_  Marianne  _knew_  she was gaping,  _knew_  she shouldn’t interrupt, but her shock was simply too great. “Seriously?”

Hadrian looked bemused. “Well,  _yeah_. After the Council pulling that, who could blame him?” He gave a grin, running a hand through his wavy red hair, looking a great deal less like a respectable healer and more like a mischievous schoolboy. “He was pretty incredible, actually. Absolutely terrifying. Of course, I can say that ‘cause  _I_  knew that  _he_  knew I wasn’t part of that ploy. But for the councilors who had tried to get away with it…” He shook his head and chuckled again. “I heard Sir Anthony say that he always thought you had gotten your temper from the Queen. But apparently your father gave them reason enough to rethink that.” 

Marianne’s head spun. “Wait, what the  _hell_  did he say to them?”  

Hadrian shrugged. “The truth – that their behavior was underhanded and a disgrace to the Fairy Kingdom. He said that if they ended up damaging your diplomacy program in anyway or –” he gave her a rather careful, searching look, “–if it cost him your trust, he would hold them personally responsible, and they weren’t to expect any protection or favors from him when you took the throne and decided what to do with them. It was pretty amazing.” He cocked his head, squinting at her curiously. “He didn’t tell you  _any_  of this?” 

Marianne had to close her eyes, her self-recrimination weighed so heavy upon her. “Nothing…” 

_Of course he wouldn’t, he didn’t think I would believe him._

Seeing the effect his words had upon her, Hadrian had quickly changed the subject, calling Sunny and Dawn over for some friendly banter. Marianne had tried to stay engaged, but her heart and head were elsewhere, eyes sliding over to where her father was only to feel a fresh stab of shame go through her, making her look away. 

And like a coward, she hadn’t sought him out afterwards, her shame too great as Hadrian’s words echoed in her ears.  _“If it cost him your trust…”_

Marianne now closed her eyes once more, guilt burning through her in a hot, prickling wave.  _God, Dad, I’m so sorry._

And now she was going to get crowned with that hanging over her along with Bog not being there…

A knock came from the door, jolting Marianne out of her bout of berating herself. She quickly whirled around, her wings twitching nervously as she smoothed her hands down her skirts. “Who is it?”  _Oh god, is it already time?_

“It’s me, dear.” 

Her heart gave a heavy lurch.  _Oh boy._

Nonetheless, Marianne knew she had to be brave. She rolled her shoulders back –  _c’mon, Tough Girl_  – and managed to get a reply out despite the sudden dryness of her throat.  “Come on in, Dad.” 

The door opened and her father stepped in, carrying a long, narrow case and wearing a slightly apprehensive expression. The lines puckering above his brow melted away as he took in his eldest, gowned and glowing in all her regal finery. His eyes widened before he gave a heartfelt sigh, his shoulders slumping with emotion. “Oh, _Marianne_ …” 

His awestruck reaction had Marianne ducking her head, abashed yet gratified. She looked up to give him a shy grin, her shoulders bunching up in a shrug. “Dawn did a good job, huh?” 

“You look absolutely stunning, darling,” King Dagda said with deep sincerity, his armor clanking a bit as he made his way to her. He put the package he had brought with him upon her vanity and sighed once more, the look in his eyes one of bittersweet love and pride. “Just like your mother on her coronation day. I wish she could see you now…” 

Marianne’s blush deepened. It was far from the first time her father had compared her to her mother, but today such words made her heart flutter in a new and terrifying way.  _Big surprise there._

She dared to dart a quick glance at her mirror, taking herself in. Had Mom done the same thing? Had her heart thrummed like this? Had she wondered how the crown would look upon her head, how  _different_  it would make everything? 

The rush of her thoughts overwhelming her, Marianne ducked her head once more and pressed a hand to her necklace, her pulse fluttering under her palm. “Got the next best thing…” she said, her voice between a murmur and a mumble. Slender fingers stroked over golden roses and thorny vines, and the look she gave her father was both self-conscious and deeply grateful. “Dawn told me that you thought of this.” 

“It looks lovely on you, darling,” he murmured, his whiskers curving with his soft smile. “You wear it well.” 

Marianne returned his smile and then shivered. “I just…” She stopped and breathed deep before continuing on, her voice a hint throaty. “I just hope I can be…y’know,  _worthy_  of it.” 

King Dagda shook his head, expression sincere. “You  _are_ , Marianne, you always have been—”

“Not always,” Marianne interrupted, lowering her gaze. “Not…not last night. Or at the meeting.”

  _Not when it was so easy for me to doubt you._

Her father paused at her words, realization dawning in his eyes before he bit his lip, clearly uneasy. Marianne’s heart clenched at the sight, and she sighed, steeling herself before speaking, her voice soft and regretful. “Dad, I—” 

“No, please, Marianne if I – if I may…” Her father floundered a bit before clearing his throat and picking up the long, narrow case he had brought. “I…I have something for you. A gift, actually. For today. To…well, to have at the ceremony.” The green of his eyes was achingly earnest. “To have with you always.” 

Marianne cocked her head, distracted from her apology despite herself. “Dad…?”

King Dagda passed his hand over the seam of the case, his fingers fiddling with the latch.  “I’ve always  _tried_  to keep you safe, my dear,” he said, a slightly wry slant to his brow. “Whether I went about it in the best way…well, it doesn’t matter. What matters now is that I know you don’t need anyone to keep you safe. You can take care of yourself. I  _know_  that now…and I hope this shows that.” 

He opened the case, and Marianne’s gasp was torn from her bones, wide eyes taking in what had to be the single most beautiful sword she had ever seen in her life.  _Oh…_

Her father continued on, his green eyes rather hesitant as he looked into her face. “I would never ask you to give up your current sword, of course, but…I suppose I thought you ought to begin your reign with a weapon that befits a Queen.” 

Marianne could only continue to gaze at the sword, her mouth still hanging open. The sun coming through her window shifted with the clouds, and a shaft of light fell across the blade, making it glow with a beauty both bright and deadly. It was  _magnificent,_  the glory of it stealing her breath away. The blade was made of steel so highly polished that it shone silver bright, cut from sunlight and forged from moonglow. Its edge was of such a fine sharpness that Marianne could easily imagine a petal falling upon it would find itself sliced in two with not so much as a whisper. 

The hilt was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, wrought from a gold so dark it looked like shadows had been bronzed and burnished. Intricate vines, much like the ones of her mother’s necklace, wove around the cross-guard and twined up the grip, thorns etched along them. Miniscule amethysts were inlaid to depict flowers blossoming upon them, while another, larger amethyst was set in the pommel, all of them glittering with a dark purple splendor that made Marianne remember the blooms of the Dark Forest. 

It was dark and deadly, bright and beautiful, the most elegant threat of ferocity Marianne had ever laid eyes on.  _And he had it made for **her** …_

She lifted shocked eyes to her father. He had  _never_  given her a weapon before, never had tried to outright  _encourage_  her training…

Seeing her gob-smacked expression, King Dagda gave a small, somewhat embarrassed chuckle. “I…I know it’s not the  _usual_  gift to give a Queen, but as Dawn’s already given you a gown and the necklace, and you’ve said time and time again that you have more than enough jewels…” The look her gave her was a bit hesitant before continuing on. “I…I thought you would use this more.” 

“Dad…it’s…it’s  _beautiful_ …why…?” Marianne breathed, her eyes tracing over the sword’s gleaming lines, the gracefully wrought hilt.  

Knowing what she was trying to ask, her father gave a sigh, his expression equal parts rueful and abashed as he set the case back upon the vanity. “Marianne, darling…I can’t pretend that I have always…  _understood_  your decisions or actions.” He glanced down, and she knew he was thinking about Bog. He continued on, his voice low with sincerity. “But for too long I let myself be complacent over that. I want to do right by you, my dear. And part of that involves me letting you live your own life, be your own person…be your own Queen. And though I’m sure I will still… _struggle_  with that from time to time, I  _do_  hope you know that that has never stopped my love for you. Nor…” 

King Dagda stopped to give a slow exhale, and Marianne’s heart throbbed when she saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. 

He continued on, his voice somewhat shaky. “…How  _immensely_  proud I am of you.” 

Marianne’s heart gave another painful lurch, and she moved to her father, intensely moved. “ _Dad…”_  she murmured, her voice breaking a bit, and they found themselves in a fierce hug. 

“You’ll be a far different ruler than I ever was, my dear,” King Dagda continued softly, his hands stroking her hair. “But that does not mean you will not be an utterly magnificent Queen. I am…I am so very  _proud_  of you, Marianne.” 

Her eyes blurring and unable to speak, Marianne hugged her father back as hard as she could. When they finally did pull away, she wiped away her tears with shaky fingers, laughing a bit at herself. “Dawn will hate me if I get this dress stained…”

Dagda chuckled as well, the noise a bit thick, before giving her another tentative look. “I…Marianne, I know you’re unhappy about it, but – I truly  _did_  try to get the laws changed—” 

“I know,” Marianne interrupted gently, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I know you tried, Dad. And I really appreciate it.” Her lips then quirked in a crooked smile. “But that’s gonna be the first of the laws to go when I take the throne.” 

Dagda shook his head at her, but his eyes were full of love and acceptance. “My unique, wonderful girl…”

Marianne’s smile grew, then she sighed, stepping back a bit more to rub her hands along her arms and look out the window. “Sun’s getting pretty high. It will be starting soon.” 

King Dagda nodded, stepping back a bit. “I’ll send Dawn when it’s time for you to be outside the throne room so you won’t have long to wait. Stop you from getting  _too_  anxious.” 

Marianne’s grin was a mix of impish and anxious. “Yeah, I can just get anxious in the comfort of my own chambers.” 

Her father nodded, smiling reminiscently as he looked around. “I still remember the day we moved you out of the nursery and into here. You were so excited to have a room of your own, and Dawn was in tears over losing her big sister.”

“The only time in her life that she wanted me to be hovering over her,” Marianne agreed, rolling her eyes fondly. “ _That_  sure changed.” 

“Now we’ll be moving you out of here and into the official quarters for the Queen,” King Dagda murmured, his eyes looking to something she couldn’t see. He blinked them rapidly. “Goodness, but you don’t stop to think about how much time has flown…”

His voice quavered slightly, and Marianne had to give a thready laugh, playfully batting at him and ignoring her own tight throat. “Dad, don’t start, Dawn will kill the both of us—”

“Yes, of course, you’re right.” Her father collected himself, taking a deep sniff and straightening his posture, his armor clinking as he rolled his shoulders back. He picked up the sword’s case from the vanity, flipping it closed and latching it shut. “I’ll…I’ll take this with me, so you can take your vows on it during the ceremony, if you like.” 

Marianne nodded, thousands of tiny butterflies spiraling through her stomach. “Sounds good.” 

Her father paused, then reached up a hand to a flyaway bit of hair that had escaped from Dawn’s careful coiffure, tucking it behind the curve of her ear. His fingers lingered for a spell, touching her cheek tenderly as he looked at her, endless warmth and affection in his eyes. “I’ll see you soon, darling.” 

Marianne nodded once more, smiling back at him with soft warmth. “See you, Dad. And…thanks. For everything.” 

He pressed a swift kiss to her brow, his beard tickling her a bit, then turned and left the room as he attempted to wipe his eyes as discreetly as possible. Marianne had to fight the impulse to chuckle. It was hardly fair of her, what with how tenuous her control over her own tears had been so far…

That in mind, Marianne breathed in deep and slow, attempting to collect herself as best she could before turning to the mirror once more, studying what she saw there. 

The Fairy who looked back at her was beautiful, her silver spun gown clinging to her form and lending her a soft, shining radiance. She looked luminous, magnificent, regal…but most importantly, she looked  _strong_. Assured. The Fairy in the mirror looked like she could lead an army, like she could rule a Kingdom, like she was worthy of a crown. 

She looked like a Queen. 

Letting out a faintly shaky breath, Marianne turned away, her heart thudding fast within her breast.  _It was happening, it was actually happening…_

Suddenly she tensed, her ears flicking slightly as a soft swell of music rose through the air, climbing up to her window as soft and steady as vines. Countless voices twined together, weaving as one in a melody that had her heart pounding. There were no words, just the smooth and sweet ebb and flow of fairies singing together, united in a song that was the herald for this day, this moment. They had always done this, ever since the reign of the Fairy Kingdom had begun, always sung the same song in celebration…

Marianne closed her eyes, the music swelling and washing over her.  _Singing in their new ruler…_

There was a soft knock at her door, and then a fluff of golden hair peeked in. Dawn’s eyes were as soft and joyous as her voice. “Marianne? Are you ready to—” 

“I can hear them,” Marianne said softly. She opened her eyes and turned to her sister, her heart throbbing with a queer intensity in her chest. “I…I  _knew_ they would do this, but…actually hearing it,  _them_ —”

“Singing,” Dawn affirmed quietly, her footsteps soft and sure as she crossed to her sister. “For today. For  _you.”_  She grasped her sister’s hands and squeezed, her eyes eager and her smile bright and sweet and true. “It’s time, Marianne. You ready?” 

Marianne took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.  _It’s time._  “I’m ready.” 

* * *

Marianne had never realized just how large and  _looming_  the doors to the throne room of the Fairy Palace were _._

They gleamed with gilding, their beauty only doubled by the intricate depictions of flowers and fairies carved upon them. When she had been small, she used to love standing in front of them, let her fingers curl and trace along the ridges of the leaves and loops of the vine, but now the fingers Marianne trailed over them were cold with nerves. 

She was alone in the hall, no knights beside her to open the doors, no one to hover over her as she took these last few moments to gather herself. The fairies still sang, their melody echoing throughout the Palace, the soft thrum of their voices held back by the doors. As soon as she opened them, she would be swept up into the song and there would be no turning back…

_Got to take a chance now, not be a prisoner of doubt._

Marianne smiled, ignoring how her lips trembled just a bit, and rolled back her shoulders with a deep, steadying breath.  _C‘mon, Tough Girl. Time to get crowned_. 

With that, she placed her hands on the door and pushed them open as fiercely and decisively as she could, her expression strong and unafraid even as her heart trembled. 

The throne room opened before her, the cavernous hall full of light and color and music, sun pouring in through the tall windows to strike across the prism chandeliers, dappling across the sea of fairies with rainbow light. All of their eyes eagerly fixed upon her as they continued to sing, voices overlapping and entwining and rising up to the graceful, gilded arches of the ceiling. 

A long swath of luxurious green carpet began at the door, stretching all the way across the mirror-polished floor to the dais where Dad and Dawn waited, their beaming faces visible even from where she was. Marianne could see Dawn visibly restrain herself from bouncing up on her toes, and held back a chuckle. No matter how surreal the rest of today was, she could always count on Dawn being  _Dawn_.   

Taking another slow, deep breath, Marianne held her head high and kept her eyes forward as she walked through the archway, music cascading over her. Passing through the sea of the courtiers and nobles, Marianne could have sworn she felt a tangible touch for every eye that was upon her, and quickly concentrated on Dad and Dawn and letting the building music wash over her, drown out her nerves.  _Just keep walking, you can do this, don’t trip don’t trip don’t trip—_

She could see some of the fairies excitedly clutch at each other as she passed, a few younger girls swooning in mid-song at the sight of her gown, and Marianne had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to stop a grin from stealing across her face. It was a battle she lost when she saw Sunny beaming and waving excitedly at her as he stood not too far away from Dawn. 

Marianne’s eyes crinkled at his enthusiasm, and the smirk she bit back was good-natured. Thank god she had decided to officially extend a Council position to him before all this. She might have been deprived of Bog today, but she’d be  _damned_  if her sister wasn’t going to have Sunny by her side. Besides, it would have been horribly dismissive not to have him here when he had helped out so much, offering his services in planning the dance after this—

Marianne almost tripped over her skirt and quickly refocused, gathering up the fabric as gracefully as she could and continuing on.  _Okay, first near-stumble is out of the way._  Now if she could just to get to the dais and up its steps without setting anything on fire, that would be  _great._

Thankfully she made it with no more near misses, reaching the base of the dais just as the voices of her people began to crescendo joyfully. Taking her cue from them, Marianne began to ascend, her heart pounding as each step took her closer and closer to where Dawn and Dad waited, her senses heightened to an almost terrifying pitch of clarity.  _You can do this, you can do this—_

And all of the sudden she was there, standing as easily-as-you-please in front of them. The court of the Fairy Kingdom held onto one last bell-like note, letting it ring out strong and clear and powerful and triumphant, savoring this moment, celebrating this victory, no more obstacles between their Princess and her fate—

Her father held up his hand, and the music finished with a grand flourish. The throne room echoed in the sudden silence, and Marianne had to remind herself to breathe.  _Oh **god** —_

Stepping forward, King Dagda let his eyes travel over the crowd of his people before turned them to her, the green of them warm and proud and questioning as he lifted his eyebrows slightly.  _Okay?_

Despite her somewhat shallow breath, Marianne straightened her spine and discreetly smoothed her skirts, smiling at him with warm gratitude and certainty.  _Okay. I’m ready._   

Giving her one last smile, her father took a deep breath before speaking, his voice rolling over the crowd and echoing off the walls of the throne room. “Who stands before the court?” 

 _It’s happening._  Marianne closed her eyes briefly before opening them, her voice clear and strong as she spoke the words she had rehearsed so many times. “Princess Marianne of the Fairy Kingdom.” 

Dawn hugged herself, overwhelmed with emotion, and their father continued on. “Your highness, are you prepared to take the vows of the crown and the oaths of the Light Fields?” 

Marianne lifted her head high, regal and poised even as her heart raced. “I am.” 

Her father’s eyes had never looked so bright, shining with pride and love as he proffered his gift to her. A slight murmur rippled throughout the crowd.  _A Queen to take an oath upon a blade…?_

It was easy to ignore them when her father was looking at her like that, his voice as warm and proud as his smile. “Place one hand upon your sword and the other upon your heart.” 

She laid one strong, slender hand across the shining blade, the metal a cool contrast to the warmth of her skin, and pressed her other palm to her breast, her heartbeat steady and strong. Amber eyes lifted once more to her father’s gaze before flicking over to where Dawn was already beginning to sniffle. Marianne’s calm expression flickered slightly, a smile tugging at her lips before she looked back to her father and gave a tiny nod. 

Her father gave an equally small nod in return and took another deep, steadying breath. “By heart and hand, do you vow to rule the Fairy Kingdom and the Light Fields with wisdom and integrity, in sun or storm?

Marianne’s voice was calm and strong. “By heart and hand I vow this.” 

“By heart and hand, do you vow to protect and serve all subjects of the Fairy Kingdom with courage and mercy, bestowing fair justice to noble and common blood alike?”

“By heart and hand I vow this.” 

“By heart and hand, do you vow to seek a balance of Dark and Light and an age of peace as monarch of the Fairy Kingdom and ruler of the Light Fields?” 

Marianne’s heart ached with certainty and pride. “By heart and hand, I vow this.” 

Her father nodded and drew her sword away, and Dawn stepped forward, her smile like tearful sunshine as she held out the rose-velvet pillow where the crown of the Fairy Kingdom lay, gleaming a soft, burnished green-gold. 

King Dagda gently took it, nodding his thanks and giving a brief smile to his youngest. Dawn gave a hiccup of happiness, and Marianne had to bite her cheek to keep her laughter in. Her father’s moustache trembled slightly too before he held the crown high for all to see, gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the throne room’s tall windows. “These vows thus witnessed, you may now kneel to accept your crown.”

Marianne gracefully knelt on one knee, thankful that she had practiced the move all those times no matter how foolish she had felt doing so, and bowed her head before her father, eyes fluttering closed. 

And then a soft pressure and solid weight settled upon her head, and her father’s words carried across the crowd, reverberating through her bones down to her very soul. “With humbleness and grace you knelt as Princess Marianne. Now may you rise, strong and steady as the sun, as our Kingdom’s new Queen.” 

Marianne opened her eyes, glancing up at her father just in time to see a tear trickle down his cheek and disappear into his beard. Her vision blurred, and Marianne closed her eyes briefly, giving a soft exhale of a laugh, breathy with disbelief and joy. 

Then she rose, as strong and steady as any could desire, the weight of the crown making her stand tall and proud, and King Dagda couldn’t contain neither his beaming smile nor his tears as he looked at her.

Marianne impulsively grasped his hand, squeezing it, and he nodded quickly, giving a soft, teary chuckle before clearing his throat and offering her sword once more. Marianne took it, her grip certain and strong, and breathed deep before turning to face the crowd, calm and collected, holding her head and her crown high.

All eyes were wide and wondering as her father’s voice rang out, strong and proud. “Crowned and witnessed, sworn and strong, may her reign be as fair as the Fields she governs. May all subjects of the Fairy Kingdom recognize and rejoice in their new ruler…Queen Marianne of the Fairy Kingdom!” 

The crowd erupted into cheers, laughter and joyous shouts filling and echoing off the walls of the cavernous room. For the first time that day, Marianne actually  _breathed_ , her ears thrumming with noise, her heart full and aching with a joy beyond words. 

It had happened. She had done it. 

_I’m the Queen._

* * *

Marianne tried to keep her grip on her father’s arm as subtle as possible as they stepped through the throng of excited fairies, her expression determinedly calm even as her wings gave some traitorous trembles. The endless bowing and curtsying and fawning from nobles and courtiers? Annoying, but expected. A sumptuous banquet that was more a production than a meal, one course stretching into another as the sky darkened, with toast after toast being raised to her? Tiring, but at least she had been able to eat a bit. 

But this…

Her fingers dug into her father’s arm, and she was thankful for the armor he wore. God, she was so  _pathetic_ , how the hell was  _this_  more intimidating than anything else—?

There was a soft cough, and Marianne quickly looked over at her father, who arched a rather amused brow at her, his expression full of fond exasperation. “Either my armor is getting old, or your grip is getting stronger, my dear.” 

Marianne winced a bit, relaxing her grip. “Sorry. I just…I  _know_  I can do this, but—”

“You  _can_  do this,” her father quietly affirmed, continuing to lead her. “You know how, and you’ll be utterly magnificent.” 

Marianne had to smirk and roll her eyes, not caring if anyone saw. “I’ll keep in mind that you’re saying this before any toes are stomped on.” 

Her father merely chuckled, the smile he wore since she had been crowned growing behind his beard. Marianne cocked her head at him curiously, absentmindedly noting the new weight her crown added to the gesture. 

Her father laughed again, though this time it was a touch guilty. “I’m sorry, my dear, it’s just…” He inhaled and shook his head. “I was just thinking that this is the first ball I haven’t had to  _tell_  you to smile. Perhaps we can take that as a good sign?” 

Marianne blinked and then rolled her eyes again, but her smirk slid into a true smile as the ballroom floor neared. “Fair enough. I’m still not making any promises about the safety of your feet.” 

“You’re as wonderful a dancer as you are a fighter, Marianne,” her father said sincerely, making her flush fiercely. His mouth quirked. “When you  _want_  to be, of course. You practiced this, my dear, you’ll do fine.” 

The strings from the royal orchestra began to warm up, and Marianne nodded resolutely even as her stomach swooped and churned. “Practice,” she repeated.  _“Right._ Just like training.” After all, dancing  _was_ sort of like sparring, wasn’t it? Trusting your body to know how to move, surrendering to the heat of the moment, letting instinct and rhythm guide your feet—

_To music._

_In front of everyone._

_And they’re all watching_ … 

Never mind the last time she had danced, it had been with Roland… 

Marianne’s fingers clenched again, as did her jaw. Of  _course_  he’d find a way to worm himself back into her thoughts on this day—

She started at the gentle brush of fingers over her tight knuckles, and looked up sharply. Her father gave her a soft smile, his eyes warm and understanding. “This is  _your_  night, my dear,” he said quietly. “Your triumph. No one can take that away from you.” 

Marianne felt the tension drain from her. Even after all their struggles and missteps, sometimes Dad knew  _exactly_  what to say. She twined her fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. “Thanks, Dad,” she said, soft and sincere and warm.  

“Although…” her father continued, and Marianne noticed with a sharp little flare of alarm that they had finally made it to the dance floor, the crowd murmuring and chattering in excitement as the orchestra held up their instruments, “…I will say that after you continually refusing to partake in balls, I  _am_  very honored to have your first dance tonight.”  His green eyes gleamed as he guided her the last few steps before he stepped in front of her, offering his hand. “Honored  _and_  foolishly happy.” 

Marianne laughed, ignoring how her heart raced as she placed her hand in his and set her other upon his shoulder, and there was absolutely no doubt that her smile was a real one. “I’m happy too.” 

His whiskers curved with a deprecating smile. “Happy enough to dance with the former King?” 

“Happy enough to dance with my father,” Marianne corrected softly, amber eyes warm. 

He took a low, sharp inhale at that, and Marianne’s heart gave a painfully wonderful kind of clench at the sight of her father’s rather damp eyes. Then he quickly put his free hand upon her waist before nodding to the orchestra, and Marianne’s heart had a few scant seconds to do a back flip before they were off, gliding to the sweeping strings—

It wasn’t  _completely_  horrible, Marianne thought as she twirled and swept over the glimmering dance floor, her father’s hand a comforting, guiding weight. Yes, everyone  _was_ watching her, and yes, there  _was_  the ever present danger of tripping on her skirt and falling flat on her face in front of them, but… _god,_  she had  _missed_ dancing. 

Especially dancing like this – letting her body twirl and twist and turn so freely, surrendering to the rush of the music as her feet grew as light as her wings, enjoying the rare opportunity to happily surrender control to someone she could  _trust_ , someone who had no ulterior motives or manipulations, someone who only wanted to enjoy the music with her in the purest way. She had forgotten how lovely it was, dancing with—

Her father dipped her, and Marianne let her eyes close, her spine curving gracefully as she savored how the crowd sighed in admiration. Her father beamed as he brought her back up, delighted pride in every feature, and Marianne didn’t try to keep her smile back.  _With somebody who loves me._

Her heart soared with the music, and as her father twirled her away from him, Marianne impulsively let her wings fan out. The violet glow of them shimmered and spangled across the sparkling silver of her dress, her skirts flaring gracefully as the crowd gasped in awed rapture.

Marianne was about to give a delighted, triumphant laugh when her father suddenly dropped her hand, making her briefly panic as she whirled away from him, unable to stop—

Then Dawn was there, beaming bright and beautiful as she held out her hands. “My turn!” 

Marianne threw back her head and laughed unabashedly, grabbing her baby sister’s hands and holding tight as she leaned back to spin them around, dancing like they had as children. The playfulness was doubled by Dawn fanning out her own wings and taking to the air, holding one of Marianne’s hands to spin her in tight, dizzy little twirls that had the young Queen quite unable to breathe from both the rush of it all and her laughter. 

Marianne fluttered up to join Dawn, continuing their dance on an equal level, and soon the rest of the court was flocking to the floor, dipping and twirling and fluttering to the elegant, sweeping waltz. Marianne’s head swam with song and the sweetness of it all – the pride in Dad’s eyes, the bright joy of Dawn’s smile, the sheer triumphant wonder of this day, this evening…

In that moment, dancing through the air with her sister, Marianne’s crown felt like it weighed nothing at all. 

* * *

“Dawn,  _c’mon_ , no more, my feet can’t handle it,” Marianne laughed, weakly attempting to tug her hand away as Dawn continued to drag her through the crowd. God, she knew fairies had a love of parties, but she had  _seriously_ underestimated their stamina regarding them. Here she was, feet aching and wings trailing behind her, and they were all too happy to continue consuming hors d’oeuvres and slosh about refreshments as the evening wore on, the earlier banquet evidently not sufficient. 

Sunny had kept the mood going after the orchestra departed, bringing out some of fellow elves and recruiting some eager fairies from the crowd. Soon all were working together to perform some classic dance tunes to the delight of the partygoers. By now the formality of the event had mostly worn off, and the younger crowd of the court was intent on showing everyone that they had  _plenty_  of energy to keep the ball going. 

Marianne could only shake her head wonderingly and long for a quiet moment away from the rush and rhythm of it all. Stamina in a spar was easy, but this required something else entirely. It was one thing to savor a celebration in her honor, but when her ears were buzzing and her feet positively  _throbbing_ —

 Not that she was in a  _bad_  mood. Hell, her face ached almost as badly as her feet did what with how she hadn’t been able to stop smiling. But this crowd hadn’t gone through the stress of being crowned and having almost every single noble claim a dance and enduring conversations that were split evenly between sincere congratulations to saccharine sycophantry—

And now Dawn was insisting on taking her back for another dance. At least, that’s what Marianne had assumed when her sister had taken her hand and whirled her out of one  _very_  dull conversation with a stodgy nobleman with a blithe “ _So_  sorry, Sir Gilbert, just need to kidnap the Queen for a few teeny tiny moments!” 

Marianne’s crown had been knocked lopsided, but she honestly couldn’t begrudge her sister’s rescue attempt. She still rolled her eyes as she straightened it, trying to pull back a bit before Dawn reached the dance floor. “Dawn, really, don’t you wanna try and dance with Sunny for a bit instead?” 

“Of course I do!” Dawn rolled her eyes, shaking her head so that her voluminous locks got even fluffier.  “But Sunny has at least two more songs to do, and  _you_  need to be outside before one of them starts—”

“Wait,  _what?”_  Marianne stopped resisting in favor of blinking in confusion. Dawn merely took advantage of this and tugged her along some more, rolling her eyes again with no small amount of affection. 

Looking around, Marianne saw that Dawn was indeed leading her  _past_ the dance floor, instead making her way to the grand balcony, its large doors thrown open to the shadows and a glimmering, shimmering, star-studded sky. The far off moon was burnishing what it could of the Fields with a pearly, silvery purity, and Marianne had a moment of enthrallment at the sight before dropping back into suspicion. “Dawn, what are you doing?” 

“Taking you outside, oh Queen of the Fairy Kingdom.”  _Duh_. 

_“Why?”_

Dawn’s grin was far too mischievous for Marianne’s comfort.  _“You’ll see…!_ ” she sang merrily, still pulling her along. 

Marianne thought she ought to make one last final stand of resistance, planting her feet and looking over her shoulder. “At least let me grab my sword, I don’t want Dad to see me leaving his gift unattended—”

“Already got it!” Dawn chirped, holding it up to Marianne’s shocked gaze and giving a rather blithe giggle for someone with a dangerously sharp weapon in their hands. “Now  _c’mon_ , your majesty!” 

Suspicious but undeniably intrigued, Marianne let herself be led, and felt relief wash over her as thoroughly as the cool, fresh night air did. The noisy thrumming energy of the ballroom dimmed to a dull roar, and Marianne tilted her head back to blink up at the night sky, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness and admiring how the stars scattered across the blue-black velvety endlessness. She breathed deep, her chest rising and falling. God, but an escape had been  _totally_  needed. 

“Sooo…beautiful night, right?” 

Marianne dropped her chin back down to smile at Dawn, arching a brow at her deliberately casual tone. “It is,” she agreed sincerely, and reached out and took her sister’s hand, squeezing it. ““It’s been a great night, and a great day, Dawn. Thanks for making it that way.” 

Dawn blushed and beamed, but her blue eyes were surprisingly sly. “Don’t you think it could be  _better,_  though?” 

Marianne shrugged a shoulder, tugging up a strap that was threatening to fall. “Hard to think how it could be.” She surveyed the view from the balcony, the glow of the moon gracing everything, rendering all silver and pure. Her heart ached with a sweet sort of disbelief at the sight.  _So beautiful, and it’s **mine** , my Kingdom, mine to rule and protect and care for and love—_

She leaned her hands upon the balustrade, drinking it in. “I mean,  _look at it,”_  she said in a soft murmur, loath to disturb the serenity of it all. “I don’t think it could get more beautiful than this. The moonlight is—”

“Perfect right now.” 

Marianne jumped away from the balustrade, whirling around wide-eyed as a certain scaly-backed King stepped out of the shadows, blue eyes gleaming bright with happy mischief. “Though it can’t compare to  _you_ , Tough Girl.” 

 ** _“BOG!”_**  Marianne flew to him, practically tackling him with her embrace. “Bog,  _oh my god,_  when did you–how did you– _oh my god, what are you doing here–?!”_

Bog’s kiss stopped her words and stole her breath away, and Marianne clung to him, shock and delight weakening her knees so. She dazedly registered Dawn’s happy little sigh behind them, and when Bog pulled back she could only blink up at him dizzily, torn between the stupor only his kiss could give and a million questions buzzing about in her brain. Curiosity won out. “Bog, why… _how_ …?”

Claws stroked through her hair to cradle her cheek, the touch of his talons tracing over her skin as tender as his gaze. “Ah  _told_  ye,” Bog murmured, his palm so rough and warm,  _“we’d think o’ somethin’._  Ah was nae about ta miss this, Tough Girl.” His mouth then quirked in a sly smirk. “As for  _how_ , I would have thought that was obvious. After all,  _you_ were the one to suggest that I talk with your sister.” 

Marianne gaped at him, then turned her stunned gaze upon said sister. “Dawn…?”

“You’re welcome,” Dawn said, tone warm and blasé though her blue eyes sparkled with a delighted sort of wickedness as she carefully leaned Marianne’s sword against the door. Giving a dainty flutter of her wings, she floated over to them to brush a sweet kiss upon one of Bog’s sharp cheeks. “Have fun tonight, Boggy.” 

She then stepped back and fluffed her hair, her voice airy. “Now, if your majesties will excuse me…” She twirled back to the balcony’s doors, leaning against the frame dramatically before giving them a beatific smile. “…I wanna dance with somebody.” 

She gave another twirl back into the ballroom, merrily singing something about wanting to  _“ feel the heat with somebody.”_  Bog let out a soft, dry snort, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at the young Fairy Princess, and Marianne would have joined in had she not been too busy being gob-smacked. “Bog, seriously,  _how_  did you– _what_ did you and Dawn–?” 

“Your sister is many things,” Bog said, voice dry but eyes pleased. “ _Scheming_ is apparently one of them. When those decrepit imbeciles tried to play you with that rule, they failed to take that particular danger into account.” 

Marianne’s head spun and her heart gave a sharp twist of worry. “Oh hell,  _what did you do?”_

Bog chuckled, pressing a kiss to her brow. “Relax, love. Your sister merely smuggled out that wretched text of theirs to the Forest and helped me find a very exploitable loophole.” 

Marianne blinked. “Loophole?” 

“Aye.” Bog’s smile was almost vicious in its pleasure.  _“Only those of the Faerie Court shall be present in the Throne Room to bear witness.”_  His hands dropped to her waist, holding her close and tight. “ _In_  the throne room, Tough Girl. There’s nothing to forbid one from watching from a window.” Moonlight made his eyes gleam. “Nor anything to prevent one from… _discreetly_  attending subsequent celebrations.” 

Marianne could only stare up at him, her heart thudding with an almost agonizing wonder.  _“From the window…”_ she repeated in a dazed murmur, a swell of  _something_  making her start to tremble in his arms. “So, you…you…?”

“I saw everything,” Bog quietly confirmed, reaching up a hand once more to cradle her cheek. The blue of his eyes was almost unbearably tender, full of pride and love. “ _Everything_. You were  _magnificent,_  Tough Girl.”  

“You saw it,” Marianne whispered, then leapt up to tackle Bog once more, twining her arms tight about his neck and hugging her legs around his hips, her voice an elated gasp.  _“Oh my god, you saw all of it—!”_

“All of it,” Bog said, his smile obvious in his voice as he wrapped his arms around her just as tight. “Though my wings did start to tire at one point. Luckily the walls of your Palace are very easy to grip with claws.” 

Marianne could only laugh, joy and shock making it a trembling thing. “Yeah,  _luckily.”_  She buried her face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling him. Her voice was a shaky murmur, fathomless with love. “Oh god,  _Bog…”_

His hand stroked through her hair as he spoke, voice slightly husky. “I wasn’t sure if I should come to you after, in case your Council saw us. But your sister thought you would be glad—”

“I  _am,”_  Marianne said, close to a sniffle as she leaned back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m  _so_  glad, like– _glad_  is the biggest understatement right now, I was so—”

Bog’s brow furrowed, concern making his eyes darken. “Marianne, what –what is it, why are you crying—?”

 _“’Cause I’m so happy, you dork,”_  Marianne giggled as she batted at him, her laugh a bit watery. “I told you, I’m so damn happy, I was so–and this whole time you—”

She had to pause to wipe at her eyes again, and Bog’s brow relaxed, though his eyes were still cautious. “So…these are  _good_  tears?”

“ _Amazing_  tears,” Marianne stated, her face aching with her smile. “Best tears ever.” She wiped the last bit of them away before pulling him back into another kiss, fierce and deep. Bog readily surrendered, groaning thickly into her mouth as she took and tasted every delicious inch of him that she could. When her lungs could no longer be ignored, Marianne pulled back only the barest amount of inches, nuzzling at his nose. “ _Thank you,”_  she murmured against his lips, the words heated and heartfelt.  “Thank you so much, Bog. I  _hated_ that you weren’t there—”

“Your Council expects goblins to be cunning and treacherous,” Bog returned, nuzzling her back. “I was merely satisfying their expectations. Though if your sister has proved to be so sly, perhaps they ought to be worried about their own folk.” 

Marianne chuckled, soft and warm. “Remind me to thank her too.” She shook her head, smiling. “God, first the dress, now  _this_ …” 

Bog cocked his head, leaning back to look at her, eyes curious. “Dawn made this?” 

“Are you kidding me? She would have never forgiven me if I had another Fairy make my dress for today.”  _Actually, on that note…_

Marianne wriggled out of his arms, stepping back as soon as her feet touched the floor so he could see her properly. Fanning her wings, she spread her arms, feeling an odd sort of shyness. “So…Queen now. Got a crown and everything.” She smiled at him, resisting the urge to straighten her crown and studiously ignoring how her heart began to pick up in tempo. “What do you think?” 

“It suits you,” Bog answered, voice low with sincerity and the glow of his eyes close to a smolder. 

Marianne’s heart thudded even more at that, but she merely returned his heated gaze with one of her own, the soft little smile curling at her lips close to a smirk. “I’ll tell Dawn you approve.” 

Though this time she absolutely would  _not_  let this dress get shredded by Bog’s claws, no matter how much it thrilled her to have him undress her with such impatient savagery. Dawn’s gift was gonna stay safe from any wild, reckless lust—

She started, her wings fluttering. “Oh! Wait, that reminds me, I want to show you–Dawn’s present was this gown, but you  _need_ to see what Dad gave me—”

She rushed to the door of the balcony, picking up her sword from where Dawn had put it. Turning back to Bog, she easily hefted it up, practically glowing as she proudly displayed it. “Isn’t it absolutely  _gorgeous?_  I mean, I’m totally gonna keep my old one, but isn’t this just the most  _beautiful_ sword you ever saw? God, I can’t  _wait_  to spar with it.” 

“It’s lovely,” Bog agreed, inspecting it closely and nodding his approval. “A weapon worthy of a Queen.”

Marianne chuckled, tilting the blade and admiring how the light from the ballroom played off of it. “Y’know, Dad said the same thing?  _A weapon that befits a Queen.”_ She looked at it affectionately, her voice soft as she continued. “It’s the first weapon he’s ever given me. He was never big on me learning how to fight. And now he gives me  _this_ …”

Her throat was threatening to get a bit tight, and she was thankful for the distraction that came in long and gnarled fingers curling over her hand. “Even without knowing that, it’s clear that you inspired this.” Marianne looked up to watch Bog study the blade, his blue eyes lingering at the sight of both their hands twined about the hilt. “Dark. Deadly.” His mouth quirked, and his eyes flashed up to hers. “ _Beautiful._  You’ll wield this well.” 

Marianne’s cheek burned with her blush. God, where the  _hell_  did he get off, saying those things and making her heart thud so? She tried to laugh, rolling her eyes, bashful more so than cynical. “Flatterer—” 

 _“Honest,”_  Bog retorted, his smile spreading into a grin. “Only that.” 

Marianne  _did_ laugh then, cheeks still pink as she went to run a hand through her hair before remembering her crown. Thus thwarted, she let it drop to her throat instead, fingers fiddling with her necklace. “Either way, you’re sweet.” She shrugged a shoulder a tad ruefully. “I just hope that I’ll be worthy enough, when I  _do_  end up wielding it.”

Bog stepped closer to her, eyes achingly earnest. “You  _are_ , Tough Girl, you always have been—” 

He stopped, his head cocking. “What is  _that?”_

Marianne’s brow scrunched, confused. “What is wha– _oh!”_  She started slightly, looking down to where her fingers were still absentmindedly plucking at her necklace. “Oh,  _yeah_. This was from Dawn and Dad, they though I’d appreciate having it today—”

Bog arched a brow. “I thought you weren’t one for such baubles.” 

“I make exceptions.” Marianne looked down at her necklace once more, her touch soft and her smile wistfully proud. “This is my Mom’s.  _Was_  my Mom’s. I can’t remember a time that she didn’t wear it. Dad gave it to her on their wedding day, all Fairy brides get necklaces—” She flushed, realizing she was rambling. “Anyways, it was hers. Dawn and Dad thought it would be nice, y’know? Having a bit of her with me today. She actually wore it on her coronation day too…” 

She felt a betraying prickle burn at her eyes and quickly shrugged a shoulder, trying for blasé. “So, lucky me, I get her crown and her necklace. Though I think the necklace is only for today.” She bit her lip softly. “I know its super cliché and sentimental—”

“No more so than me valuing this scepter,” Bog interrupted gently, giving said scepter a soft shake. “It’s been held by every King the Dark Forest has deemed worthy. My father held it, and his father before him.” He dropped it, and there was a new appreciation in his gaze as he looked at the necklace nestled in the hollow of her throat. “Goblins understand the weight such things hold.” 

He looked up at her, the blue of his eyes flashing, bright and sincere and almost solemn. “I would  _never_  mock you for treasuring something like this, Marianne.” 

Gazing up at him, Marianne had to remind herself to breathe. Blinking her eyes a bit rapidly and finding it more than a bit difficult to get any words out, she simply took one of Bog’s hands and twined her fingers with his. Her voice was rather husky when she spoke, stroking her thumb along his. “You have no idea how damn easy it is, loving you.” 

Bog inhaled short and sharp at that, and Marianne found herself being tugged to him, held tight to the beat of his heart. She pushed herself even deeper into his embrace, closing her eyes to surrender herself entirely to all her could give her – the faint rasp of his exoskeleton on her skin, his mossy, darkly wild scent… _nothing_  could compare to being in his arms. 

They stayed that way for a while, savoring such comforting closeness as music and revelry continued to drift through the air from the ballroom, the light from the doorway washing over most of the balcony in a golden spill. Marianne was pleased to see that it did not extend to them. Darkness had always been an ally for them, and she could always trust the shadows to keep her safe. Especially when they kept her time with Bog  _hers_. 

Bog gave a soft nuzzle to the crown of her head, careful not to knock her crown askew, before pulling back a bit to look back down at her necklace, considering it thoughtfully. “So this was your mother’s? Your father had it fashioned with her in mind as he did with your sword?” 

Marianne hummed in confirmation. “Yep. Though who knows, maybe Mom would have liked a sword too.” 

Bog smiled, but his eyes flicked back down to the slender silver and gold vines, the delicate and detailed roses and thorns weaving in and out of the fine metalwork, the subtle shimmer of the amethyst. “I’d have never imagined a Fairy would choose to wear thorns—”

Marianne laughed. “Oh, that’s because of the words the Royal Family had for their crest.  _Admire the rose for both its petals and its thorns._ Mom used to say it all the time.” 

 _“For both its petals and its thorns…”_  Bog repeated in a soft murmur, tasting the words on his tongue. 

“Because the rose is brave enough to let its petals be soft and delicate, and smart enough to know how to protect itself with thorns.” Marianne shrugged a shoulder slightly, the memory of her mother’s explanation echoing in her ears. “Because as different as they are, they both make the rose what it is.” She looked down with Bog, smiling softly as the faint prickles of metal caught the light. “And that makes both of them beautiful. Mom was a big believer in finding strength in differences. She said they were an opportunity for unity, not a divide.” 

“Sounds familiar,” Bog said, the slant of his smile both warm and sly. 

Marianne rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You’re  _so_  not the first person to compare me to my mom, almighty Bog King.”  Her hands stroked up along his chest to tug at an ear before deciding she’d much rather let them tease at the long, lean supple line of his neck. Bog gave a low hum of appreciation deep in his throat, which thrummed beneath her fingertips. Marianne caught her lower lip between her teeth, unable to hold back her smile. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “I bet you would have liked her…”

His hand reached up to cradle hers, dwarfing it entirely, eyes steady and sincere. “I’m sure I would have, if she was indeed so similar to you.” He ducked his head down, and Marianne gave a faint shiver at how soft his mouth felt, brushing over her knuckles. “The character of anyone who holds your heart so strongly can’t be in doubt.”   

Marianne shut her eyes, breathing as evenly as she could. Did he have the  _faintest_ idea, what such words did to her? What _he_  did to her?  _He has no idea…_

She opened her eyes, letting them glow up at him through the darkness, and moved her hand to cradle the sharp, thorny line of his cheek, her smile equal parts adoring and teasing. “I’m gonna make you remember those words, your majesty. They apply to more than just my Mom.”  

Bog’s scaly brow creased before realization flickered through his gaze, and his eyes grew unbearably soft and tender as he looked at the Fairy Queen who trusted him to rule her heart so. Marianne’s smile was soft and thankful as she leaned back against his chest, his scales crackling softly as she nuzzled him. Bog readily returned such affection, tucking her close and tight to him before sighing gustily. The sound was so deeply and unabashedly content Marianne would have teased him had she not been feeling pretty much the exact same way.  _God, he makes me so happy._

That in mind, she gave a sigh as well, echoing his happiness as she snuggled further into his embrace, closing her eyes once more to sink into the soft enchantment of the evening. The feeling of being held, the soft purr of the wind, the music wafting through the air like perfume…

A familiar voice began to sing, and Marianne’s eyes popped open before she gave a chuckle. “ _Huh._  Sunny’s got a good memory.” 

Bog pulled back a bit to look at her confusedly. “The Elf? What for?” 

She gave him a gentle poke. “ _Sunny_ , you majesty. I told him this was one of my favorite songs ages ago, I never would have thought he’d remember that…” 

Bog cocked his head, clearly concentrating on the music through the continued chatter of the partygoers. Bright blue eyes narrowed before he smiled, the sharp line of his teeth exposed in a slowly spreading line of appreciation. “Not a song one would expect a Fairy to favor…” 

Marianne hummed in agreement, her eyes sparkling. “Pretty  _different_ , right?” 

“That’s what I like,” Bog murmured.

“Me too,” Marianne returned, a bit of a purr to her voice as her hands glided up his arms and past his scaly shoulders to clasp behind his neck. “Sunny did good…” 

Bog adjusted his hands accordingly, one hand dropping to her waist while the other palmed her back, the long stretch of his fingers easily holding her. Marianne shivered happily at being so effortlessly cradled before another thought struck her, making her snort. “Now if I could just get him to stop  _worrying_  about other stuff…” 

Bog arched a brow at her. “Such as…?” 

“How to address me.” Marianne sighed and shook her head, some part of her registering just how  _odd_  that felt now that she wore a crown. “Sunny’s hasn’t stumbled over what to call me since we were kids, and back then, he only had to worry about  _Princess.”_  She tilted her head. “Actually, it was more like  _Printheth_. He had the cutest lisp until he was three—” 

Bog’s brow creased, a faint gleam of bewilderment in his gaze. “Why would he  _not_  know what to call you now?” 

Marianne laughed, soft and shy. “Well…now I’m the Queen.  _His_  Queen. And it’s  _new_  and  _weird_  and now he keeps going back and forth between  _your highness_  and  _your majesty_  and apologizing for both—”

“I thought the Fairy Kingdom used those titles interchangeably,” Bog said, his hand spanning her waist, claws stroking softly against the exposed skin of her back. 

Marianne shivered slightly and fought to stay of track. “Well, sort of, but that’s not the point. I told him to keep calling me Marianne, but all that did was add  _Queen Marianne_ to the mix. And it just proves…” Marianne took a deep breath, trying to put her feelings into words. “It just…keeps reminding me that now I’m…now everything is…” 

 _“Different.”_  Bog’s hand tightened at her waist, and the blue of his eyes was understanding and serious as he looked at her. “You knew it would be, Tough Girl.” 

Marianne felt a faint little jolt of gratitude – no matter what she was crowned with, she’d always be his Tough Girl – and nodded. “Yeah, I did. It’s just…” she shrugged a bit helplessly, her smile disbelieving, “… _wow._  It  _happened._  I’m Queen now, crowned and everything.” 

He smirked, moving one hand to let his claws toy with her hair. “It suits you.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You already said that.” 

He gave a gentle tug at her ear. “It bears repeating. As does what I said before – you already  _were_  Queen, Marianne, in all but title. This just makes it official.” 

Marianne smiled despite herself, leaning her cheek against his chest. “It’s still gonna feel a bit odd, though. Sunny’s not the only one who’s gonna have to get used to it.” Her fingers curled at the collar of his armor. “Honestly, I’m one of them.” 

His lips brushed over her brow, his nose nudging at her crown. “But you  _will_ get used to it, Tough Girl. They all will. Try thinking of this as an adventure.” 

Smirking at the familiar words, Marianne leaned back and arched a brow at him. “One that the whole Kingdom will take?” 

He arched a scaly brow back at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “And one you shall lead them in.” 

Well, when he put it like  _that_ …

Marianne chuckled and snuggled up close to him, her exhale close to a purr. “ _Nerd._  If there’s gonna be an adventure, your majesty, you better be there too.”

He nuzzled her right back, holding her close. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”   

She leaned back to look at him, happiness making her eyes sparkle. “You’re such a dork.” 

His one-sided smile was warm, blue eyes just as bright as hers. “I’ve been told. Mainly by you, Tough Girl.” 

“’Cause that’s what I like.” Marianne stroked her hands up his arms, relishing the feel of his scales, the texture of them against her skin still able to make her shiver even after all this time. The blue of his eyes got decidedly tender, and she sighed happily before leaning her head upon his heartbeat once more. “God, I love you.” 

Bog’s arms tightened at that, and Marianne savored the sensation of it all, being slightly crushed by his affection.  She snuggled deeper into his embrace, and felt Bog brush another kiss upon the crown of her head before he spoke. “What did you mean, the titles are  _sort of_  interchangeable?”

Marianne rolled her eyes. “Technically,  _your majesty_ and  _your highness_ are only used interchangeably for queens of royal birth.” Marianne pursed her lips and let her nails scratch softly over the scales of his collar, feeling gratified as Bog gave a slight shiver. “Mom used to say it was a reminder that in the eyes of the court, we were princesses first and foremost. Kinda sexist, really, seeing as they don’t do it with kings of royal birth—” 

“You can always pass a law decreeing that you can only be addressed with  _your majesty,”_  Bog suggested, his fingers stroking along her spine and his smile a touch sly. “You  _can_  do that now.”  

Marianne tilted her head, a considering smirk curling at her lips. “You know, I  _could_ …if I cared about it enough.” She then laughed, soft and wondering. “ _God._  I have that power now. That’s…that’s  _so_  weird.” She gave him a cheeky look. “I’m as powerful as  _you_  now, almighty Bog King.” 

“You’ve always been,” Bog retorted. “That’s never not been true, Tough Girl. We’ve always been—” 

 _“Equals,”_  Marianne finished, giving a soft roll of her eyes before she sank back against his chest. Sunny had begun to sing, she noticed idly, his voice warm and low and crooning out familiar words. “Yeah, I know…” 

Bog gave a faint grumble at her casual flippancy, and Marianne grinned as she closed her eyes once more, letting herself relax a bit more, trusting him to hold her up. Bog readily complied, and she bit her lip at the gentle trace of his talons along the dip of her spine, soft and slow and safe. To think she had once been so wary of anyone getting so  _close_  to her, past all her defenses…

_“So now, I keep my guard up.”_

_“Me too…”_

Marianne gave a soft huff of a laugh, her exhale brushing over Bog’s scales like the delicate drag of flower petals. God, what a pair they made – both of them vowing to be done with love and trust, only to give each other both in the space of one moonlit night. Guess they always  _had_  been evenly matched…

Long before tonight, Bog had always been adamant in his belief that they  _were_  equals, the differences in their ranks inconsequential to their relationship. And as much as she liked to roll her eyes over it, Marianne had always appreciated his sincerity in that regard. But now, actually being a Queen to match a King…she thought she  _finally_  understand his point. 

No matter what rank either of them held, no matter what Kingdom either of them served…no crown or power would make one higher than the other. 

Nothing could stop them from being equals. Nothing could stop their love. 

Marianne looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “I  _do_  know, Bog,” she murmured softly, the amber of her gaze glowing with soft sincerity. “We’re equals, always have been. Nothing could change that.” She then smirked. “Though I’m still curious about  _one_  little thing, now that I’m Queen…” 

Bog cocked a brow, smirking a bit too as he considered the playful light of her gaze. “And that would be…?” 

“I told you you’d have a Queen in your bed soon, your majesty.” Marianne was sure her smile was hungrier than any Fairy Queen had ever sported. Standing up on her toes, she drew Bog’s ear to her mouth with a gentle tug, and her voice was a breathy smolder, heated with her promise.  _“As soon as we get back to the Forest, we’re gonna have a celebration of our own,_ _almighty Bog King.”_     

Bog stilled, which Marianne promptly took advantage of by mouthing at his ear in a way that was frankly filthy. She then gave it a nip, her teeth blunter than his but just as hungry, the whisper sliding past them sweet with sin _.“I can wear the crown…”_

Whether it was her words or her bite that broke through whatever daze Marianne’s words had sent him into, Bog’s reaction was swift. He growled, low and throaty and full of the same heat that was already making her blood race, leaning down to her while his blue eyes burned with a now familiar fire. 

Marianne playfully dodged his kiss, the amber of her own gaze sparkling with sweet mischief. She gave an impish grin, cocking a brow as she took another teasing step away, before Bog snagged her wrist and pulled her back to him, the danger of his sharp smile belied by the warm amusement his eyes held. 

Marianne spun, her back hitting his front and biting back a laugh as silken wings rustled against the faint scratch of his scales. Bog burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, sharp nose nudging at the slim line. He growled playfully, and Marianne attempted to hold back her giggles. 

She was unsuccessful, and soon they mixed with the soft song playing from the ballroom as the two of them swayed on the balcony, shadow and moonlight bathing them in equal parts. The sweet lilt of Dawn’s voice now joined with Sunny’s in the duo that was so natural to them.  _“Mad sounds, in your ear…”_

Marianne’s giggles tapered off as she listened, Bog nuzzling the nape of her neck as she silently sang along.  _They make you get up and dance…_

She gently disentangled herself from Bog’s arms, her heart beating just a touch more. Bog gave a puzzled noise before she turned to face him straight on, softly clasping her hands at his neck once more. Her expression was incredibly tender as she looked up at him, her question just a shade above shy. “Hold me tight?” 

Bog blinked before shaking his head, his exhale a breath above a laugh and his expression echoing hers with the depth of love in his gaze. Long and scaly arms snaked about Marianne until she was cradled as lovingly as anyone could desire, claws scratched softly along her spine. The blue of his eyes was bright and sweet with sincerity, his voice low with his promise. “ _Always_ , Tough Girl.”  

Marianne sank against him, the dark fan of her lashes fluttering across her cheeks and her smile curling soft and sweet at her mouth. She’d never get tired of this,  _never_. How could anyone get tired of such fathomless trust, such unquestionable tenderness? 

Such a question was incredibly close to the unabashedly, wretchedly romantic, sure, but when it came to Bog…

Marianne smirked. Hell, maybe it  _was_  unabashedly, wretchedly romantic. So what? Who was gonna stop her from feeling so? She  _was_  Queen now. She could do whatever the hell she wanted, especially tonight.

She sighed, low and soft and slow, and Bog’s chuckle reverberated through her. “Tired, are we?” 

“To be fair, I  _was_  crowned today,” Marianne pointed out without much rancor. “Weren’t you tired after you became King of the Dark Forest?” 

“I was too preoccupied with feeling ill,” Bog replied, nuzzling at her hair once more as Marianne snorted. “I  _did_  take the throne at a much younger age than you did. And I told you, the Dark Forest doesn’t need others to witness the scepter being taken by the new King. My coronation was far simpler compared to what you went through.” 

“I bet it was,” Marianne murmured dryly. “Which is why you shouldn’t be mocking me over how tired I am.” 

_“Ah wasn’t mockin’—!”_

“Shh, just hold me tight. You’re good at that.” She swayed slightly as a demonstration, and any complaints Bog was about to give were forgotten in favor of winding his arms accordingly tight, holding her close as his body rocked with hers. Marianne grinned softly before continuing on. “So…was it just the ceremony you saw?” 

Claws continued to stroke down her spine, rough knuckles brushing along soft wings. “I saw you and your father share that dance. Are the kings here expected to do that as well when they’re crowned?”

Marianne rubbed her cheek against his heartbeat, the rasp of his scales soothing. “Usually queens and kings are crowned together here, like Mom and Dad were. So they share their first dance as King and Queen. Either way, it’s always in front of the court.” She shrugged, almost lazy. “I was different, big surprise. Didn’t have a King to dance with. Luckily Dad was there.” She smiled, lips brushing his scales as they stretched in a smile. “I don’t mind too much, as long as it’s with somebody—”

She stopped, her eyes opening wide.  _Oh my god._

Oh holy hell, she and Bog were—oh  _god_ , she hadn’t even  _thought_ —

She laughed, the soft noise somewhere between stunned and thrilled, and Bog arched a brow at her, confusion twisting it. “What?”

She giggled again as she looked up at him. “Nothing, it’s just…we’re  _dancing_.” She looked over at the ballroom where Sunny and Dawn were still singing their song. When she looked back to him, her eyes glowed bright and beautiful with a sweet honey light. “We’re  _actually_  having our first dance.” 

Bog gaped at her. “Wha—?  _No!_  No, this isn’t – this isn’t  _dancing_. What you and your father were doing,  _that’s_  dancing—” 

“It’s a  _type_  of dancing,” Marianne retorted with a soft sternness, tapping her nails against his collar. “And so is this. Dancing is just two bodies moving to music, that’s all.” She smiled up at him, somewhere between teasing and utter sincerity. “I like this better. It’s more private. No one to make me worry about messing up.” Her fingers stroked at his throat softly. “Just the two of us.” 

Oh yeah, she  _definitely_  liked this better. 

Bog still looked faintly thunderstruck, and Marianne squelched a chuckle in favor of enjoying the music and making sure she did nothing to mess up the simple, sweet sway of their bodies. So  _this_  is why Dawn had wanted her to come out before Sunny got to this song. 

And here she was, a Queen dancing with a King after all…   

There was a definite look of panic starting to form on Bog’s sharp features, though he still continued to hold her, his fingers flexing at her waist. Blue eyes darted from his hands to both their feet, and the lean line of his throat bobbed with a swallow before he gave a rather helpless oath. “Ah wish ye had nae said anythin’, now Ah’ll bludy  _ruin_  it—”

“No you won’t, Drama King,” Marianne retorted, rolling her eyes. One of her hands fell from his neck to soothingly stroke over long, gnarled fingers that were still twitchy with nerves. “There’s no way to ruin dancing, especially not this kind. But…” She smiled, a touch teasingly. “You  _could_  try thinking of this as sparring.”   

Bog arched a brow at the warm slyness in her voice, looking decidedly unconvinced.  _“Sparring?”_

She nodded unconcernedly, her other hand sliding away from his neck to move down his arm, her feet crossing in another gentle turn that had her stepping away from Bog, who observed her curiously. “After all, it  _is_ sort of like it. You got to trust your body to know how to move…”

 Her fingers twined with his, and she pulled herself into a soft spin that ended with her back in his arms and up against his chest. Marianne’s voice was as soft and sultry as her smile. “And then there’s surrendering to the… _heat_  of the moment…” 

Her words lit an undeniable smolder in Bog’s eyes as he gazed down at her, any remaining awkwardness or shy hesitancy brushed aside like ashes.  _“Surrenderin’…”_  he murmured, his accent caressing the word in a way that had Marianne happily shivering. “Quite close ta yielding, tha’ is.” 

“Only this time you  _want_  to,” Marianne murmured back. “As long as you have the right person…” 

_As long as you dance with somebody who loves you._

She dropped her gaze at the thought, lashes long and dark across pink cheeks. God, that she could  _still_  blush, even after everything… “The right person makes all the difference.” 

Claws stroked under her chin, tipping it up gently so that softly smoldering blue met warm, brilliant amber. “An equal?” 

**_Oh._ **

Marianne grinned, shaking her head with a soft laugh. God, he really  _was_ trouble. “Yeah…”

Bog’s smirk was soft with satisfaction, and Marianne shook her head once more with amused affection before giving another soft twirl, her skirts swishing softly as she turned out from him, graceful and unhurried as the song Sunny and Dawn still sang. 

_“Suppose you’ve gotta do what you gotta do…_

_We just weren’t feeling how we wanted to._

_You sit and try sometimes but you just can’t figure out what went wrong…”_

Bog, always a quick learner, pulled her back with the same ease, making her skirts flare out once more, his palms stroking up her arms as her back curved with his front, holding her close.

_“Then out of nowhere, somebody comes and hits you with an_

_Ooh la la la, ooh la la la…”_

Marianne lazily swayed in his embrace, languidly crooking an arm up around his neck, curling a hand. Soft fingers teased at his ear, and she smiled at the sweetness of it all, the gentle song twining through the air and around them, pressing them even closer…

_“Ooh la la la…ooh la la la,_

_Ooh la la la, ooh la la la…”_

Wrapped in Bog’s arms, in his love, the melody and the moon and the stars swimming all around them, Marianne’s heart gave a tender throb as she considered it all. The Queen of the Light Fields dancing with the King of the Dark Forest, entwined and equal, matched in passion and power, lust and love… 

 An echo of the vows she had sworn earlier came back to her.  _“By heart and hand, do you vow to seek a balance of Dark and Light…?”_

Marianne smiled as she closed her eyes, savoring the night, the feel of Bog, the tender triumph of today and the endless possibilities of the future, of her reign.  _No need to seek it._

“Ah must confess…” Bog murmured suddenly, making her start a bit though his voice was soft and husky. “Ah dinnae see only ye and yer father dance…” 

Marianne smiled, though she was still facing away from him as they swayed. “Oh?” 

“Ah saw ye and yer sister share one as well.” Claws stroked down her arm, his thumb brushing gently over the pulse point that fluttered so delicately at her wrist, uncovered by her bracelet. “Do…would ye mind if we…?” 

Marianne’s heart thrilled, and when she turned to face him, her smile was her answer. 

Bog grinned, looking so very  _young_  for all the sharp cragginess of his features, and took to the air in a thrum of wings. Marianne clung to him, throwing her head in exhilarated laughter, stars and joy making her world spin, and she only belatedly realized she really  _ought_  to be worried about losing her crown—

Stopping a fair distance above the balcony but keeping close enough to hear the music, Bog merely continued to grin as he twirled her out from him again.  Marianne obliged him, pointing her hand with playfully and fanning her wings out, wondering if moonlight was making them sparkle with the same silvery iridescence that was rendering his wings so utterly  _breathtaking_ , almost as spellbinding as his eyes.  _God, he’s **so**  beautiful—_

Biting her lip to keep her smile from blossoming, Marianne twirled herself back to him before dropping dramatically, the action close to a swoon. Bog easily caught her before smoothly swinging her into a dip, his eyes narrowed in amusement and keen with pleasure.  The hazel-gold of her eyes hooded, Marianne gave him a smolder before laughter broke through her seductive expression. Shaking his head but still smiling, Bog pulled his Tough Girl back up to him, all too eager to continue their dance. 

Music wove around them like the wind, the stars spun and shimmered like diamond dust, and Marianne’s heart ached with a joy beyond words as she watched Bog watching her, the blue of his eyes burning through the night, brighter still with love.  _You make the stars spin, you make my heart sing, you make everything—_

And so Queen Marianne of the Fairy Kingdom, first of her name and ruler of the Light Fields, danced through the midsummer night’s sky with her King, moonlight crowning them both.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys - your support means *so* much to me. And for those who are wondering if Boggy was remiss in not giving Marianne a gift like Dawn and Dagda did, well…
> 
> Just you wait ;-)
> 
> Also! Here's a drawing of what I envisioned Marianne's gown to look like: http://suzie-guru.tumblr.com/post/146549138578/part-one-of-my-fan-art-for-my-fanfic-coronation


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